


Reverence

by monicawoe



Series: Another Version of the Truth [3]
Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cassidy POV, Gen, Genesis has had just about enough of this, Jesse Custer and his god complex, Jesse uses his power on others, M/M, Mind Control, Oral Sex, Tulip POV, dark Jesse, tulip saves the day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monicawoe/pseuds/monicawoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If he was a smarter man, Cassidy would have left hours ago. But he wasn’t smart, he was a bloody fool when it came to the people he loved, and Jesse—Jesse was stuck in his heart like a thorn, burrowing deeper every minute of every day. And no matter how hard he tried to claw him out, he just pushed him in deeper.<br/>---------</p><p> </p><p>  <i>darker AU of season one, starting with 'He Gone.' Jesse goes through with his plan to save Annville, and uses the Word on his whole congregation.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The balcony was a great place for a nap, was the thing. It was a nice, quiet spot—significantly cooler than the attic. On most Sundays, Cassidy woke up well before the service started. But this morning, it was the sound of Eugene and Jesse arguing that roused him from his dreams.

They were both shouting now, Eugene insisting that what Jesse was doing with his power was a sin. And oh, Jesse didn't want to hear that. Not at all.

Cassidy inched closer to the railing, until he could see the two of them below.

"Go to Hell, Eugene!" Jesse yelled. Instantly, the floor beneath Eugene broke apart and crumbled away, and the glowing-hot earth below swallowed him down to the sound of screams and hellfire. The church floor sealed itself up again, like nothing had ever happened. Jesse had done that—all of that, with nothing but his voice.

Jesse turned and saw the empty floor behind him. He looked taken aback, picked up the flyer Eugene had left behind, checked the floor with his hands.

Good. He _should_ be upset over what he'd done, maybe now he'd come to his senses. He hadn't listened to angels, wouldn't listen to reason, but maybe this would do it. Jesse straightened, rolled his shoulders back, and opened the doors.

A cold unease squirmed in Cassidy's gut as he white-knuckled the railing. There hadn't been a trace of guilt on Jesse's face. Not a damn trace.

#

He sought refuge up in the church tower, away from the crowds. It was a good place to hide—hot as a four-balled tomcat though. But he'd take this heat over the spectacle down below any day.

The crowd was huge, the church itself stuffed to the rafters. He'd seen it start to fill on his way up; outside, all the chairs were full and there were even more people standing along the sides.

Emily played something ghastly on the organ and the parishioners all sang about Jesus and soldiers and righteousness. When they'd finished, Jesse came to the pulpit, and greeted them, "Peace be with you." He droned on a bit, boring as usual, but Cassidy's ears perked when Jesse said, "...your whole life can change in a moment. And this is that moment. And this is the word." Cassidy plugged his ears, closed his eyes and threw a silent prayer up to that useless bastard in the sky.

Cassidy didn't hear Jesse's command, but he felt it rumbling through the air like thunder, amplified a hundred-fold by the loudspeaker. And worse, he could see its effect just by looking down—clear as day on the faces of the people below. The way they all froze, the way they all waited—the whole lot of them holding their breath and then exhaling as one.

Fear, deep and primal settled in Cassidy's bones. He'd seen a lot of shite in his life—horrors that most couldn't even imagine. But nothing he'd seen was as terrifying as that crowd of people smiling—unnatural, forced serenity plastered on their faces like grotesque masks.

"Go in peace," Jesse said, and they stood—his own personal horde of zombies.

#

The parishioners dispersed, but only somewhat, dozens of them still milling about for one thing or another. Cassidy found Jesse in the kitchen, drinking a glass of water.

He tried getting Jesse to talk to him, but that didn't work at all, dense as he was, and instead they danced around each, talking in circles.

"I saw. All right?" Cassidy said, pointedly.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not judging you, mate. I just need to know what I can do to help out here."

"Help what?"

"With the kid, Jesse. I saw what you done to him."

"Oh."

_Oh? That's what he had to say for himself? Oh?_

"Cass—" Jesse looked over to the door, where Emily was staring at them both. "You ready for me?" Jesse asked her.

"Ready."

And he followed Emily into the other room, leaving Cassidy alone in the kitchen.

He couldn't quite get himself to leave just yet, so he stayed where he was, watching through the hatch as Jesse's flock gathered around him for Bible study. Jesse sat before them—a king being attended to by his court. And _how_ they looked at him—like he was a bloody rockstar and a messiah all wrapped into one. Jesse didn't use his power again, not that Cassidy could tell anyway, but he didn't have to; they were all eating out of his palm already.

"With God...you need only ask forgiveness. He has a plan for all of you." And so forth, and so on. But Jesse—Jesse wasn't talking about God at all.  
  
#

Hours later, after Bible-study and during some kind of costumed performance that looked like it belonged in a grade school, Odin Quincannon —one of the few who hadn't been at the service that morning—stopped by.

Cassidy wasn't eavesdropping, not really. But he heard Jesse raise his voice, saw Odin tear open the door, ready to storm out, and then—then Jesse used his other voice. The one that raised Cassidy's hackles, made him want to flee and drop to his knees all at the same time. Jesse said, **"Stop,"** and Odin froze mid-step. **"Stop trying to take what's mine. Stop trying to take my church, my land. It ain't never gonna be yours."**

And Odin, without moving a muscle, said, real quiet, "But I have to. To serve God."

Jesse, closer now, from the sound of it, said, "God doesn't want you to tear down my church, understand?"

"I understand."

"Good. You can go."

Odin walked out into the room, right past Cassidy, but before he reached the back door, Jesse added. "And Odin? **Come to church on Sunday. Every Sunday. I want to see you in the front row."**

Cassidy's throat went dry, and he found himself in desperate need of a drink—not just because of that voice, but because of Jesse's tone. He'd shot right past cocky, into vainglorious. It would've been hilarious if it wasn't so fucking scary.

Heart heavy, Cassidy went outside, sat in the shade, and smoked his brain numb.

#

The sun was squatting low in the sky by the time the parishioners finally started clearing out. Cassidy watched them all leave. None of them paid him any mind except for Emily, who handed him a plate of lasagna. "Courtesy of Mrs. Loach."

"Oh, lovely." He stabbed at the pasta with the plastic fork, as Emily continued down the steps. "Tulip around?"

"She left earlier. Said she had to take care of something in Albuquerque."

"Ah."

"Sounded important."

"I'm sure it is." They exchanged waves, and then she was gone, and he was alone again. He picked at the lasagna. It wasn't half bad, though it could've used heaps more sauce. He set the plate down, slid to the very edge of the steps, and stretched his arm out into the last few rays of sunlight. It wasn't strong enough to do much of anything, but he held it there until his skin started to smolder. He thought about what it felt like to burn, and wondered how much worse it was right now in Hell, how _that_ burn would feel. A single heat blister bubbled up on the back of his hand, and Cassidy yanked his arm back into the shade.

Jesse came out, escorting the last of the townsfolk. There was a flurry of "good night"s, and "see you Sunday"s and , "bless you preacher"s. And then it was just the two of them.

"Comin' in?" Jesse asked, holding the door open with his boot.

Cassidy followed him inside. The church seemed overly quiet now, without the throng of people. The kitchen table was still filled with food. Offerings of pasta and pastries.

Jesse gathered the dirty paper plates from the table and carried them to the trash. "Good day today."

"Good. Oh yeah, real good. Busy, busy."

"Only gonna get busier from here on out."

Cassidy nodded, trying to force his grimace into a smile.

Jesse got two beers out of the refrigerator and slid one across the table to Cassidy's open hand. "What's on your mind?"

"Oh I just been thinkin'"

"'Bout?"

Cassidy weighed his next words carefully. _About the boy you sent to Hell, about the way you made yourself judge, jury and puppet-master of the whole bloody town, about how there's no plan—no plan but your own._ But instead, he said, "About—what're you gonna do now that you saved everyone? Didn't you just put yourself out of business?"

Jesse chuckled. He liked the question. Didn't see a thing wrong with it. "We'll see. Gotta stay a bit, make sure they're all really on the right path."

"Right. Might be some adjustments needed."

"Exactly."

Cassidy gulped down the rest of his beer and went to grab another.

"You burn yourself?" Jesse asked.

Cassidy glanced down at his right hand—the skin around the blister was an ugly swollen red. "Oh that. I just—I got too close to something."

"What else?"

"Come again?"

"Something else is bugging you."

"Buggin' me? No. No bugs."

"Spit it out, Cass. You wanna lecture me about Eugene? Tell me how it was wrong to send him to Hell?"

"Would it make a difference?"

"He ain't innocent." Jesse said, all matter-of-fact. "You know about him and Tracy Loach? What he did? "

"So he deserves it, is that it?"

"Do you know what he did?" Jesse asked again, eyes narrowed.

"I heard the stories." Inconsistent stories, at that. "But even if everything they say is the God's-honest truth—how's that make it okay for you to—"

"Because it's God's will!" Jesse snapped, shoving away from the table. He stood—fists clenched, rearing for a fight.

"I see."

"And because much better men than Eugene Root have been cast down. Much better men."

Cassidy sighed, walked over to Jesse and looked him in the eyes. "What about me, then? Whatever he's done, I've done worse. I'm a lazy, lying, self-obsessed, drug abusing, cheating fornicator with a filthy mouth and no ambition. And that's not the worst of my sins, neither."

"I ain't gonna send you to Hell."

"Why the hell not?"

Jesse glared at him. "Because you're my friend."

"And that makes me exempt from judgment, does it?"

Jesse scoffed, turned his back on him. "What do you want from me, Cass?"

Emboldened by his rage, Cassidy grabbed Jesse by the shoulders, spun him around and pinned him to the wall. "I want you to give a damn! You've sent an innocent kid to Hell! And you don't even care!"

"He ain't innocent."

"That's not the point. It's not your place to—"

"Yes. It is." Jesse shoved him off, sending Cassidy stumbling back a few steps.

And the fight drained out of him, every last bit of it. Jesse was too far gone to listen to reason. If he was a smarter man, Cassidy would have left hours ago. But he wasn't smart, he was a bloody fool when it came to the people he loved, and Jesse—Jesse was stuck in his heart like a thorn, burrowing deeper every minute of every day. And no matter how hard he tried to claw him out, he just pushed him in deeper.

"Cass. I know you don't believe in God's plan. But I do. What I've done here—it's His will. And nothing you say is gonna convince me otherwise."

"I know," Cassidy said, resigned. "Never was."

Jesse stayed quiet, watching him, sizing him up. Ready for the fight to escalate. He had no idea he'd won already. He'd won the first time he'd taken Cassidy's hand, said he liked having him around. Because that was the God's-honest, pathetic truth of it all—Cassidy had been his since that moment, and he'd rather stay and be burned again and again than risk never seeing Jesse again.

"See the thing is." Cassidy chewed on his lip. "I hear you telling people, like Mr. Quincannon earlier, to _serve God_ , but I don't think that's what you really mean."

"No?" Jesse looked at him. "And what do I really mean?"

Cassidy strode closer, until he was mere inches away. "I think you don't mean God at all." He dropped to his knees. "I think you want them to serve _you_."

Jesse reached his hand out, ran his fingers through Cassidy's hair and trailed them down his cheek. Cassidy leaned into his touch, made a low sound as he moved in closer, put his hands on Jesse's knees and wrapped his fingers behind his thighs. "'Cause if it is. If you want someone to serve you, I guarantee I give better head than that overgrown mole-rat." Jesse smirked, at that, as Cassidy's slender fingers undid his buckle, opened his jeans just enough.

Cassidy leaned forward, brought his mouth around Jesse's cock and proved his point. He had a skilled tongue, and within seconds, he had Jesse biting his lip, moaning behind clenched teeth, a bit longer and Jesse came undone, spilling into him, mouth open in a gasp.

But instead of falling back against the wall, instead of smiling, Jesse gave Cassidy a look that was positively _mean_ , carded his fingers through Cassidy's hair, pulled him forward, leaned down, right next to his ear and whispered, **"come."** And Cassidy did, with a shout, harder than he ever had—more pain than pleasure, worse than that time he'd been wired on a whole rainbow full of drugs—ecstasy, amphetamines, and everything in between. He collapsed to the floor, still shaking with the force of it.

Jesse zipped his pants up and buckled his belt. "Tulip said you were noisy."

Cassidy tried to sit up, but only made it halfway, head spinning, all of his blood still pooled in his groin. "She told you?"

"'Course she did." Jesse climbed over him.

"I—I didn't know then—that you were, that—that _she_ —"

"Would it have made a difference?" Jesse asked, but he didn't wait for an answer, and left the room without another word.

##


	2. Chapter 2

Jesse was whistling. Softly, but loud enough that Cassidy could hear it through the steady stream of the water. Whistling in the shower, completely unaware of Cassidy standing just outside the bathroom door, debating whether to go in there and snap Jesse's neck or drop to his knees again.

It was awful, feeling like this. Jesse was beyond reason when it came to Genesis, but underneath it all, there had to still be that man who'd first caught Cassidy's eye in the bar—fighting like he was born to it, a roiling storm trapped in a man's skin.

That was the problem. Jesse was a man born to make violence on the world, not give it peace. He wasn't a shepherd, he was a wolf. And whatever he'd done today, that command he'd given the congregation—well, what was a wolf's idea of God?

The water shut off, and Cassidy hurried away, grabbed his hat and poncho, and slipped out the door.

Dawn was still a few hours away. The night was hot and quiet, and there wasn't a single car on the road. He did come across one parked in a cornfield—an old Buick with its door open, like the driver had rushed out too quickly to think to shut it. After another few yards, Cassidy stopped—something was rustling to his right. He waited and looked, unable to see much of anything with all the dense stalks. He took a few more slow steps, and then froze again when he smelled blood; his sense for it was heightened, vampire and all, and there was fresh blood close—real close. He wove his way through the corn, curious, and found the source of it all too quickly. "Jaysus..." he muttered, turning away from the grisly scene. How the man had even done that to himself with a combine was beyond him, and he didn't intend to stick around long enough to find out.

It wasn't much further to the center of town, or what passed for it in the corner of nowhere that was Annville. Most of the shops were closed. Emmaline's bakery, oddly, still had its lights on, though from what he could see through the window they weren't exactly baking inside. He'd never seen the older couple that worked there in anything but their matching baker's coats and aprons. He'd certainly never seen them in head to toe leather, wielding studded paddles. And with that much enthusiasm too. Good for them.

The Frontier bar was less crowded than usual, which was to say there were only three other folk in there, both of them snoozing over their beers. Pete was mysteriously absent from the bar. "Where's Pete?" he asked the guy manning the bar instead—Matt maybe, or Mike—he couldn't remember.

"Never came in today."

"Oh, hope he feels better."

"He was fine this morning, Jackson saw him at church. Said he was in a really hurry to get home after talking to Preacher Custer."

"That a fact?"

"Yeah. Hasn't missed a day of work in the five years I've been here."

Cassidy's gut gave a little twinge. The things he'd seen on the way over had reawakened that curdling unease he'd been feeling since Jesse's sermon. He'd done something to the townsfolk alright, but what?

"What can I get you?"

"Oh. Eh...whiskey. What you got that's cheap and strong?"

Mike set a shot-glass on the table and grabbed a bottle of Ratwater.

"My usual, then." Cassidy downed the first shot, waited for the refill then asked, "how much for the bottle?"

#

The whiskey wasn't doing much in the way of soothing his thoughts. If anything, he was even more troubled by the time he got to the bottom dregs of the bottle. And then he felt something slim and rounded pushing at his ribs. A gun.

"No sudden movements," Tulip crooned in his ear. She sat down next to him, grinning. "You're out late. Or...early."

"Same to you," Cassidy said, smiling back. He could feel his ears flushing, like a smitten teenager. Christ, that smile. "You take care of—that thing you had to take care of?"

"Yup." Tulip refilled the shot-glass and drank it down. "All squared away. Well, mostly. Just got a delivery to make."

"Ah." Cassidy struggled with himself. He wanted to talk to her about what had happened, but for all he knew, she'd been there long enough to hear Jesse's command. "Didn't see you leave. You cut out early?"

"Yeah. Same shit, different Sunday. Suddenly realized I had way more important things to do."

Cassidy swallowed. "Around when'd you realize that?"

"Huh?"

"Did you stick around for any of Jesse's sermon?"

"Not much."

"Did you hear him—"

"Why does it matter?" Tulip narrowed her eyes. "He gettin' to you or something? All that Bible-thumping startin' to make sense to you?"

"Me—oh no, no. No chance of that." He smiled, and hoped it looked genuine. "I was just curious. He—he seemed to make quite the impression on most of the others."

"Weird, right? Like he suddenly got good at it." She downed the rest of her shot. "Sure his daddy's real proud of him up in whatever place they stash self-righteous pricks."

Cassidy cocked an eyebrow. There was a story there, but he certainly wasn't going to push her on it now. Not when he had other, more important things to ask her. Like why she'd—

"Getting kinda close to dawn ain't it?" Tulip asked, glancing over at the window. "You need a ride?"

"Thanks lass, that'd be lovely."

#

"Why're you still hanging 'round the church anyway?" Tulip asked, eyes on the road. "Figured you'd have moved on by now. Don't you have people waitin' for you back home?"

"They can wait. Jesse—he needs my help."

"Right. Who else would he put in charge of not fixing the air conditioner?"

"Hey, it's not my fault they take so bloody long to ship the parts!"

Tulip laughed, and her smile made everything seem brighter—even the sky outside.

Or maybe that was just the sun rising higher, dawn changing from light pink to blue as they sped down the road towards the church. If Cassidy was going to ask her what he had to ask her, it was now or never. "Why'd you tell him?"

"Why'd I tell who what?"

"Jesse, why'd you tell him about—about us? 'Bout the other night."

"Oh." She shrugged. "Figured it was better he hear it from me."

"Better—did you consider maybe we shouldn't have told him at all?"

She snorted. "You don't know him as well as I do. He'd have found out, one way or the other. And anyway, you're still alive, ain't you?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"So quit your bitchin'. He probably forgot about it already."

"Right." Cassidy nodded to himself. It seemed more likely to him that Jesse wouldn't ever forget, and would keep lording that knowledge over Cassidy for the rest of his cursed life, like a dangling guillotine.

Tulip made a hard right turn onto the dirt road leading to the church, pulled around to the back, right into the shade—motor still running, like she was waiting for Cassidy to get out.

"You're not staying?"

"Nah. Got other stuff to take care of." She threw him a smile. "You know—wrongs to right."

"I see." Cassidy swallowed. With Tulip by his side, the idea of seeing Jesse again had seemed considerably less intimidating. Without her, nobody would be there to stop him from tumbling into mindless obeisance. Nobody to stop him from doing anything— _anything_ Jesse asked of him, word or no. And worse, there'd be nobody left to stop Jesse. Because if anyone could still get through to him, it was her.

He climbed out of the car, but hesitated when he got to the door, hand on the knob. Maybe if he begged her to stay, told her his fears, told her the truth about Jesse—because chances were she didn't know about his power and what he could do, but she knew damn well what he was capable of.

As he stood there, waiting on the hung jury in his mind, Tulip drove to the front of the church. Her car stopped, engine still running, and then she pounded on the door. But she didn't wait for an answer; seconds later, her car sped back onto the main road, leaving a plume of dust behind.

The sun was properly up now, Cassidy could feel its heat start to sizzle through the air. So, with nowhere left to go, he headed back inside.

Jesse's boots made the floorboards creak as he crossed the floor of the chapel. Cassidy waited until he heard the doors open, then followed him, trying to act casual, like he'd just been lazing around, and had no idea who'd knocked. It helped that he really had no idea _why_. He paused a few feet back from the doors, well out of the way of the sunlight.

Cassidy couldn't make out a word of what Jesse was muttering under his breath. He couldn't see much either, but there was a package on the steps—a basket. There was something in it, but the preacher was blocking the view. Cassidy walked right to the edge of the shadow, trying to get a closer look. "What's that?"

Jesse turned and came back inside, brushing Cassidy's shoulder as he passed.

Cassidy inched forward another step, toes just grazing the light, and craned his neck until he could see what the basket held, cradled in a soft yellow blanket. A severed head.

"That's Carlos," Jesse said.

#

 

"You should be proud of your son," Cassidy told John Custer's gravestone, as he patted the earth of Carlos' tiny burial mound flat. "The church has never been busier." He stood and rested his chin on the shovel's handle. "He's making a—a real difference in people's lives, you know?"

Above him, a group of crows cawed.

"You're too late! Already buried it, you bastards. Go find someone else's eyeballs to pick out."

They flew off, apparently in agreement, and he tilted his hat down, straightened his gloves and walked back to the church.

#

The sink water was perpetually lukewarm, but it felt cool against Cassidy's skin, overheated as he was from the extra layers of clothing he'd just shed. He ran his wet fingers through his hair, leaving the front standing up straight before the longer strands settled into curls.

Fingers still wet, he searched for a towel, but couldn't find one. When he looked back up in the mirror, his heart jumped. Jesse was standing behind him.

"I buried it—it—Carlos," Cassidy said, and went to leave the bathroom, but Jesse was blocking the door. He moved last second, swiveled his hips just enough to let Cassidy pass.

Cassidy felt a powerful need to be elsewhere, unnerved by Jesse's silence, and the look in his eyes. But he lived here too, damn it, maybe not legally, but he did work here—those were just the facts. He had as much a right to be here as Jesse, and he wasn't about to let himself be scared off by the padre's rapid turn to the dark side. He'd pull him back—like Luke had brought back Vader. Only hopefully a little sooner, and without either of them losing any limbs or dying. Though he wouldn't say no to a friendly light-saber battle.

Maybe a beer would help clear his thoughts. Cassidy began to head towards the kitchen, but before he took two steps, Jesse grabbed his arm, stepped up behind him, and gave him a light shove on the back, nudging him instead towards the bedroom door.

It wasn't entirely unexpected, but that didn't keep Cassidy's heart from thudding fast as a jackrabbit. Jesse walked him right up to the door, reached around and twisted the knob until the door swung open. Cassidy swallowed, took a breath, walked up to the foot of the bed, and waited.

The lock clicked shut. Jesse stopped right behind him, close enough that Cassidy could feel his breath on the back of his neck. Then Jesse _yanked_ him in by the waist, pulled him close before pushing his knee against the back of Cassidy's until his legs buckled, sending him down onto the mattress.

Jesse sank on top of him, his weight settling on Cassidy's back. He leaned down low, next to his ear, and said, "I can smell her on you."

"We didn't—it's not—she just gave me a ride."

"I bet she did."

"In her car—in her car, Jess. She drove me back here. That's all, I swear."

Jesse sat back, pinning Cassidy's thighs beneath his, hands resting by the waist of his pants. "We got a rule, Tulip and me. Even when we ain't really together. Anyone she gets, I get too, long as they're willin'. That's just how it is. That person says no, deal's off for everybody." He curled his fingertips in, pulling on the waist of Cassidy's pants. "So, what's it gonna be?"

Cassidy was glad he was face down on the mattress, because if Jesse had seen the look of relief and near-hysteria on his face he would've laughed. So his choice was to have a go with Jesse and possibly Tulip again or neither? His fantasy since he'd first seen the both of them, being handed to him without even asking. "Yes—of course it's yes, Jaysus." He bucked up, much as he could, scrabbled for his make-shift rope-belt and undid the knot, yanking his pants down.

Jesse pulled his pants down further, then off completely, and seconds later, two of his fingers were prodding at Cassidy's hole.

#

Cassidy woke up sticky and bent at an awkward angle. He'd slid half off the bed in his sleep, knuckles grazing the floor. He pulled himself back up on the mattress, squinting at the window; it was late afternoon, early evening maybe. There was a smell wafting in from the kitchen. Something delicious that made his mouth water—meat, vegetables and honest-to-God spices...

He searched around the floor for his clothes, pulled on his pants, gave up on the shirt, and wandered into the kitchen. Someone was cooking at the stove—somebody he vaguely recognized—an older woman from the congregation, whose name escaped him. She turned and smiled at him as he walked in, saying, "Figured Preacher Custer might want a nice home-cooked supper. Must be hard, being all alone."

"Not _all_ alone," Cassidy said, still blinking the heaviness out of his eyes. The table was set, plates and cutlery, a vase of fresh wildflowers in the center.

"Oh, I'll make enough for both you boys don't you worry," she said with a chuckle. Cassidy's mouth watered at the smell. He fell into one of the chairs and watched her work. Out the window, he saw someone else outside on a ladder, scraping the old peeling paint off the side panels.

Jesse came in through the back door, and made a bee-line for the stove. "Thanks Nancy, that's real kind of you." He gave her a peck on the cheek and she giggled, eyes wrinkling as she beamed up at him. "No trouble at all, preacher. It's a family recipe."

"Pete's doin' a real bang-up job out there." Jesse said, watching through the window.

"He says it'll take him a few weeks, but Jack'll be back soon, and between the both of them they can get it done faster."

"That's great," Jesse took her hands in his. "Go on home now, you've done plenty for today."

"Least we can do," she said, smiling again. "You two enjoy. See you Sunday," she said, and pulled the door shut behind her.

Jesse brought the pan of food over to the table, filled his plate and set the rest on the trivet. Cassidy took some himself, wolfed it down hungrily, burning his tongue.

After a while, he noticed Jesse watching him, chin raised slightly, so smug it hung in the air around him. His mouth curved with that particular darkness Jesse always had that seemed to be growing with every passing day. Cassidy had no clue what that expression meant right now, but he was fairly sure having it pointed at him was no good at all. "So you wanna go another round, or—"

"I got a job for you. An errand."

"Oh? Delivery or pick-up?"

"Pick-up," Jesse said, and slid a small wire-bound notebook across the table.

Cassidy pulled the notebook closer with his fingertips and flipped it open, curious. On the first page was a list of names, on the second were more names, and even more on the third. He swallowed, uneasy. Some of them, he recognized. A lot of Odin's men, and some others. A kill list maybe? "Quite the to-do list."

"Best I can figure, that's everyone that didn't come to church last Sunday. All those people still need savin'."

"I see."

"Saving the town means saving the whole town—everybody. So, find 'em for me. Bring 'em here."

"Bring them? As in..."

"As in, convince them to come along and if they don't cooperate, just...bring 'em."

Cassidy's eyebrow shot up. "Dead or alive?"

Jesse scoffed. "Can't save 'em if they're dead. I want to talk to 'em."

Of course he did.

Jesse laced his hands together and cracked his knuckles. "Unconscious is fine though, long as they wake up again."

"Ah. That's, well it's just this is sortuva—a long list, you know? Might take some time."

"Need some help? I could get Donnie—"

"No, no, I—I prefer to work alone."

"End of the month I want everyone there. Everyone. No exceptions."

"No exceptions. Right." For _fuck's_ sake.

"You got four days 'til Sunday. Figure you can get at least two or three dozen by then. Should be easy for someone....resourceful like you."

Cassidy shoveled the rest of his food into his mouth and stood, fighting the urge to run out into those last few strong rays of sunlight and avoid dealing with any of this. "Guess I should get started then."

"Good idea."

#


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tulip sees Annville on the news and heads home to snap some sense back into Jesse

For Santa Fe, the bar had damn good drinks. Even the beer on tap was good. And at this hour it wasn't crowded either. People were mostly in the back by the pool tables, and Tulip had already hustled enough cash to keep her comfy for the next few weeks. So it was just her, a sleepy looking old dude, and the bartender, who was busy texting; Nice and quiet, aside from the clicking of pool balls and the drone of the little TV hanging above the bar.

_"And in other news, the small town of Annville, Texas is celebrating unprecedented popularity since locals claim their preacher can raise the dead!"_

Tulip nearly choked on her beer. She stared up at the TV just in time to see Betsy Schenck being interviewed. _"I ain't never seen anything like it. This man was riddled with bullets and Preacher Custer takes him in his lap and—and the wounds—they just closed."_ Her eyes widened, lower lip quivering, and Betsy really wasn't that good a faker. Whatever she thought she'd seen, she believed it hook, line and sinker.

_"Some of your neighbors say those bullets were meant for preacher Custer, can you confirm that?"_

Betsy nodded. _"People are always scared of greatness, you know? But he's the real deal. Chosen by God."_

The reporter turned back to the camera, a clear look of pedantic disbelief on his face. _"There you have it, folks: the All Saints Congregational of Annville Texas—home to a miracle-working preacher, or a town-wide sham? You decide. Text us at—"_

"Aw, hell," Tulip muttered to herself as she slammed her empty bottle on the counter and hightailed it out of there.

#

She stopped once in Lubbock, to fill her tank and empty her bladder. On her way out, a teenager handed her a flier. Tulip didn't break her stride, and crumpled it without looking. "Save your soul in Annville!" he called out behind her.

"What'd you say?" She turned around to stare at the kid.

"Annville. Their preacher heals the sick. He's been touched by God."

"Yeah he's touched alright," Tulip muttered under her breath. "You from there?"

"No ma'am, Ma's trying to find us a place next town over though. In Sweetwater."

"Sweetwater?" Tulip made a face. Lubbock was dull as dusty dirt, but still loads better than Sweetwater.

"Closer we can get the better. Ma says once you hear Preacher Custer's service, your soul's as good as saved."

"Yeah." Tulip turned back to her car. "Good luck with all that."

"Thanks ma'am, God bless you."

"He can keep his blessings." She slammed the door shut, and got back on the road.

#

Tulip parked her car a bit down the road from the church—didn't want Jesse knowing she was there just yet. He might still be up, even at this late hour. When she got closer, she had to blink a couple times to make sure she wasn't seeing things. There were cars there—a dozen or more, and two big tent-things on either side of the church, with hundreds of chairs set up inside. "What the _hell_?"

The little cemetery was bigger than it'd been, and a new grave had just been added—a shovel was still sticking out of the soil. Cassidy was leaning on one of the tombstones, bottle in his hand. And he was saying something. "...but then, damned if you do, damned if you don't. But there's no don't anymore, is there? Not with your boy."

"Who are you talking to?" Tulip asked.

Cassidy jerked and whipped his head around. He smiled when he saw her, but it looked oddly out of place with his sunken eyes and hollowed cheeks. "Sorry, lass, didn't see you there."

"You look like shit."

"You're as lovely as always," he said and he clearly meant it too. Cassidy swallowed, embarrassed maybe.

"Who you talkin' to?" she asked again.

"Oh," Cassidy pointed his thumb at the gravestone he was leaning against. "Padre's padre. He's a good listener."

"Jesse's dad?" Tulip scoffed and sidled up next to him. Cassidy stiffened a second before relaxing again. Even in the dim light of the lantern, she could see him blushing. What a sap. She cocked her head to the side, studying the grave-markers around them. "There didn't used to be this many...people here."

Cassidy nodded, let out a little huff of air. "There eh...there were a few incidents."

"Incidents?" Tulip narrowed her eyes. "Like the crazy ass story I saw on the news about shooters and Jesse raising the dead? That kinda incident?"

"Oh that." Cassidy chewed on his lip. "Two gobshites—they came in while we were having lunch, shouting about how he was the antichrist, a false prophet, and so on. They had machine guns. "

"Machine guns?"

"Not to worry, Jesse's fine. Not a scratch. I took the bullets for him."

"Jesus, Cass."

"Oh, no trouble, really. I've done worse for less." He shrugged his shoulders. "Anyways, so, Jesse got pretty cranky about the whole people shooting at him thing, tells them to off each other, which they do—"

"Wait, what?"

"—and I'm only human, or, you know, _not_ -human, so I get in a few gulps—enough to fix myself."

Tulip stared at him.

"And Jesse's holding me, thinks I'm dying, but I tell him I'll be fine, cause of the whole vampire thing. Then others come running on account of the gunfire, and they find me lyin' in his lap, covered in blood, and see my wounds healing. So...they all figure he done it."

Tulip shook her head. "Great, so now he's a—a what— a miracle-worker?"

"They already thought he was, this just confirmed it. So now there's..." he waved at the church. "There's people moved in full time. Just want to be there, just to be near him." Cassidy hung his head.

"Wait, wait, back up. He made the shooters off themselves?"

"That's what I said."

"Yeah, but _how_?"

Cassidy let out a bitter laugh. "You won't believe me."

"I believe you're a vampire. I've heard shit about Jesse that don't make a lick of sense. Just tell me what the heck is going on."

"While back—'round when I got here, he got this power. Something these two angel fellas have been chasing after—"

"Angels?"

"That's what they say they are, anyway. I still think they might be government agency clones to be honest, I don't know, but—but the point is—Jesse—he can make you do whatever he tells you to."

"Not me," Tulip said, scoffing.

"You, me, the neighbors dogs, the Schencks, Odin Quincannon. The bloody angels. Everyone." Cassidy ran his fingers through his greasy hair, making the front stick up in messy spikes. "He thinks it's a gift. God's plan. But he ain't exactly doing Godly things with it."

Tulip swallowed. The whole thing sounded absurd, but it sure explained a heck of a lot. "Cass...did he _make_ you take those bullets?

"No, no. That was all me. And besides, he doesn't have to use his voice on me. I just—I do it all anyway. Whatever he wants."

"Why?" It was hard to not get a little angry at that, but she was worried now, too. "What kinda hold's he got on you?"

Cassidy went real quiet— so quiet, Tulip thought maybe he'd stopped breathing altogether. Then he cleared his throat, sniffled and said, "He cared about me."

She put her arm around him and pretended not to see the way his eyes shone wet in the dark.

#

The first time she saw All Saint's Congregational, Tulip was six years old. She remembered thinking it was bigger than anything she'd ever seen, even bigger than the library. Her mom wasn't a church-goer, but Uncle Walter was. So the first time her mom got locked up, and she stayed with Walter, he brought her along to Sunday service.

It smelled funny inside—not bad, just different—like old things—old wood, old books, old people. She felt out of place—everybody inside seemed to know the routine, the words to say, the songs to sing. She could barely turn the pages of the book fast enough to keep up. And then there was the whole kneeling and standing bit.

But overall, it wasn't awful. It was over soon enough, and on the way out she shook hands with the preacher and with his son, who smiled at her and said, "Hi my name's Jesse, what's yours?"

"Tulip," she said, as her uncle led her down the steps.

"You coming to school tomorrow?"

"I guess."

And the next day she saw him at school and he showed her where everything was and had lunch with her and they traded sandwiches. Things were good for a while. Walter wasn't half bad, his girlfriend Alice was a great cook, and Jesse made her laugh.

But Alice got sick, died a few months later, and Walter dove head-first into the bottle and never said a word about God again. He didn't say much of anything anymore.

#

It was weird enough seeing those big-ass tents set up outside the church, but it was even weirder once she got close to the doors. The whole church looked different—shinier. They'd stripped and painted the damn thing, even planted some kind of hedges by the path leading to the door.

She walked around to the back and glanced through the window. Jesse was sitting at the table, but so were other people—Emily, and Pete, and some other lady that looked sorta familiar. For a second, she hesitated, thought about turning her back on this whole mess—Jesse and his church and all of Annville. It wasn't hers to worry about; it hadn't ever really felt like a home to her neither, except for those few months where she lived with Jesse. And look at how that'd turned out.

But she couldn't shake Cassidy's sad, sad eyes—and anyways, everything was just too damn messed up for her to ignore. Maybe all Jesse needed was for somebody to put him in his place. And that she could do. It was practically her specialty. Or at least, it used to be.

Vern was guarding the back door.

"Hey Vern. New job?"

"Yup."

"Pay better?"

"Yup. Plus, eternal salvation, so, uh...better benefits, I guess." He gave her a nod, and opened the door. That had been replaced too—swapped out with something fancier—embedded engraved glass panel in the top. There was a bullet-hole in the doorframe though, mostly covered but there. She found a couple more the longer she stared.

"Right." Tulip stepped inside before he could catch her rolling her eyes. The kitchen was full of people, the table was full of food, and Jesse, still full of himself, was sitting at the head of the table. He looked up when she came in and smiled—the smile that used to warm her right down to her toes. Now it made her feel vaguely queasy. "Hey, Tulip."

"I need a word," she said, smiling back just as pleasantly —all puppies and rainbows.

Jesse nodded at his dinner guests and they got up and filed out of the room, no questions, no protests. Most of them hadn't even finished eating.

Tulip sat in the chair closest to Jesse and gave him a once-over. He looked good, much as she hated to admit it. Healthy, well-rested —in every way Cassidy looked worse, Jesse looked better. Relaxed. Like he didn't have a care in the world. The bastard.

"How've you been, Tulip?"

"Good. Feelin' loads better since I lopped off Carlos' head." She shrugged. "Would've been nice to have you along, but I got tired of waiting."

"I understand," he said, graciously. "Sorry I wasn't there."

"Are you?"

"Tulip—"

"So anyway, I was in Santa Fe, and I hear this crazy story on the news about a shooting in Annville. About you.

Jesse shifted in his seat, smirking. "You came to make sure I was okay. You were worried about me."

Tulip huffed a laugh. "Nah. I can think of five reasons off the top of my head why somebody'd want to shoot you, but it's what happened after I can't wrap my head around."

"It's complicated."

"Not really. Cassidy's a vampire."

"You knew?" Jesse narrowed his eyes.

"Thing is, he said you got the shooters to take each other out. How'd you do that?"

"That's—that's complicated too."

"Really?" She crossed her arms across her chest. "Too complicated for me? 'Fraid I can't keep up with that big smart brain of yours?"

Jesse huffed —exasperated or amused, maybe both. "Something happened six months ago, and now I can...do things."

"Things. You don't say. Next you're gonna tell me you do stuff too."

"I can _make people_ do things."

"How?"

"By telling 'em to."

"That's it?"

"Like I said. It's complicated."

Tulip rolled her eyes. "Could you make me do things?"

"I wouldn't."

"Yeah? How do I know you haven't already? How do I know you're not doing it right now?"

"Because that's not how it works. And anyway I wouldn't. Not with you." Jesse smiled again, in a way he probably thought looked friendly, but didn't. "I promise."

"Right, and I'm sure you'll keep it, just like all your other promises."

Jesse's smile shifted into a sneer, but only for a second before he forced it away—carefully neutral, plastic calm. He stood and walked to the fridge, grabbed two beers, opened them both and sat one down in front of her.

She took a sip—waited until he was sitting across from her again. "You used it on Cassidy though, didn't you?"

Jesse looked down, just long enough to prove her point.

"What the fuck's the matter with you? You gotta know that's wrong."

"And getting shot at's okay?"

"Course not! Somebody shoots you, you shoot 'em right back." She shook her head. "Damn it, you used to know the rules, Jesse."

"I wasn't armed."

"So you take their weapons!"

"My way's less risky."

Tulip scoffed. "Yeah, I bet."

"Don't judge me, you don't know—"

"I _do_ know, Jesse. I know plenty. I know that whatever happened to you made you ten times the asshole you were before."

"Oh come on."

"Have you seen Cassidy lately?"

"Course I have. He lives here."

"I mean _really_ looked at him." She cocked an eyebrow. "It's like when people can't tell your hair's getting longer if they see you every day. I been gone a while, so I remember what he used to look like, and that—" She pointed outside. "—that ain't it."

"So I'll give him a break. Stop working him so hard."

"What've you been making him do?"

"None of your business."

"Really?"

"You _left_."

"Yeah, and you wouldn't come with me, even for—" she swallowed back the anger in her gut. Killing Carlos was supposed to be for both of them, justice they'd wanted for years, but he hadn't even cared enough to be a part of it.

"For what? For Carlos? For vengeance?" Jesse scoffed. "Killing him didn't change anything."

"No." Tulip stood. "It sure didn't." She took the bottle of beer with her, tore the door open and headed back outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter coming in a few days


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against her better judgment, Tulip stayed. She hadn't meant to, but a deep-down feeling in her gut wouldn't let her leave. Like a storm rolling in—too far away to see, but big enough to smell in the air hours before it hit. Something bad was about to happen. And maybe, if she stuck around, she could do something about it.

Against her better judgment, Tulip stayed. She hadn't meant to, but a deep-down feeling in her gut wouldn't let her leave. Like a storm rolling in—too far away to see, but big enough to smell in the air hours before it hit. Something bad was about to happen. And maybe, if she stuck around, she could do something about it.

Sunrise was coming in two or three hours; it wasn't even worth trying to find a room somewhere. She drove her car to the rear of the church, climbed in the back and slept while she could.

People started showing up at the crack of dawn—so damn many of them, both tents stuffed full and more folks still standing behind them. The biggest crowd was in front of the church—hundreds of people lined up, waiting for the doors to open. _Next thing you know they'll be selling tickets to this nonsense,_ she thought. Cassidy waved her inside as she passed by the kitchen door.

"Saved you some breakfast," he said, holding out a plate of donuts and banana bread.

"Thanks, Cass." She took a bite of the bread. It was warm and freshly baked, walnuts and everything.

"Up here'f eh beft ew," Cassidy said, through a mouthful of donut, leading the way through the sanctuary and up the stairs to the balcony. Tulip sat in the corner, next to him. She was just getting the last of the powdered sugar off her fingers, when the doors opened.

People poured in, filling the pews and then some. More than a dozen of them climbed up to the balcony, squeezed the both of them until they were pressed against the railing. "You mind?" she snapped, which got her some more breathing room at least.

Emily played the pipe organ, Jesse walked in, and a hush fell over the crowd. "Peace be with you," he greeted them all and then went right into the Bible stuff. Tulip got instantly drowsy and had to fight to keep her eyes from closing.

But then she heard a different voice. Odin Quincannon's voice. "This is it, preacher. This ends now."

A collective gasp went through the congregation. Tulip leaned forwards, craning her neck until she could get a look at Odin. He was holding something, and when he turned around—"Oh shit."

"He's got a bomb!" somebody shouted.

"Bloody bomb strapped to his chest!" Cassidy repeated. People broke into a panic, started scrambling to leave—running down from the balcony.

Jesse took a step forward, towards Odin.

"Don't take another step!" Odin shouted. "Nobody move, or I'll blow this house of lies off the face of the Earth!"

The people running out the door froze where they stood and waited, and their shouts dimmed down to frightened whispers.

"What do you want, Odin?" Jesse asked.

"I want you to tell these people that what you did was a sham. That you didn't really heal that son of a bitch that took those bullets for you."

"Odin—"

"Tell them!"

"Miracles can't be explained."

"Miracles. Right. So then prove you're the real thing, miracle-man. Bring back my family. My little Lucy."

Jesse hung his head. "I can't do that."

"Because you're a liar! This church is a lie! Your God is a lie!" Odin raised his hand, lifting the trigger higher. "But today it ends. This is your judgment."

Jesse took another step forward.

Cassidy's hands clamped down over Tulip's ears, but even so, she felt it when Jesse spoke, saw the way Odin locked up—went completely stiff.

Carefully, Jesse pried the trigger from Odin's hand, Donnie, Vern, and a few others rushed forward, stripped Odin of his jacket, of the explosives underneath, disconnected the wires.

Tulip pulled Cassidy's shaking hands away.

Jesse threw the trigger on the floor; Odin was still frozen like a statue.

The gathered congregation watched—rapt as the scene played out, all of them holding their breath. You could've heard a pin drop.

"You were given a second chance at redemption. You swore to serve God. And yet here you are, making war on his servant." Jesse put his hand on Odin's shoulder. "This is _your_ judgment." He leaned forward, real close to Odin's ear, and though he whispered, the church echoed with his words, **"Burn in Hell, Odin."**

The floor beneath Odin crumbled away, exposing red-white-orange flames and lava, and without so much as a peep, Odin was yanked violently downward, swallowed up by the broiling heat. The floor sealed up again, smooth and untouched.

"Jesus," Tulip said, as the horror of what Jesse had done sunk in.

For a few tense seconds, nobody moved. Nobody except Jesse, who rolled his shoulders back and _smiled_. And Tulip knew that smile. She'd seen it a hundred times; it was the smile that came with bloodied-knuckles or quick-and-dirty fucks in back alleys. He was getting off on this—not just what he'd done to Odin, but the transfixed crowd—every single eye turned on him—they were scared shitless, they were _awed_.

"It's okay," Jesse said, heading up to his pulpit again. "Nothing to be afraid of. Not if you seek forgiveness and let God into your heart."

"Forgive me, preacher," Vern said, falling to his knees in the center aisle. "I should've stopped him, I should've known—"

"You're forgiven." Jesse leaned his hands against the pulpit. "You're all forgiven. The only one who sinned here today was Odin."

"Thank you," Vern said as he climbed back to his feet. "Bless you, preacher."

"And may God bless all of you." Jesse straightened. "Go in peace."

The church cleared. Some people ran like the were being chased by wolves, some of them walked out, turning over their shoulders to look back at Jesse. Like maybe he'd follow them out. Or maybe he'd never let them leave.

Cassidy made his way down the balcony stairs, and after a minute, Tulip followed him. Cassidy sat in one of the pews near the back, crossed his arms across his chest and waited. Tulip walked up to Jesse, waited until he came out from behind the pulpit and off the platform, until they were toe to toe. He was looking right at her; his expression was guarded, but all that ugliness was still there underneath—prideful, satisfied, sanctimonious bastard. Not an ounce of regret. She slapped him.

Jesse flinched, glared at her, but he still didn't look sorry, so she slapped him again.

"Tulip—stop it!" He snarled, brow furrowed. He was good and mad, now.

"That what you do to everyone that pisses you off?" she shouted. Taking a step back, she spread her arms wide. "Go on then, bet they still got room for me."

"He was gonna blow up the church—with the whole town in it!"

"Yeah, and you disarmed him. Could've stopped there—had the sheriff lock him up and put him away."

"It's _Odin_. He woulda found a way out."

"Right, so Hell—that's the only other option."

"He more than earned it."

Tulip scoffed.

"And so did Eugene," Jesse said, rubbing his cheek.

"What?" Tulip stared at him, dumbfounded. "That's why he went missing?"

"And he didn't even try to blow up the church," Cassidy said, from somewhere behind them.

Jesse glared at him. "He was just as much a sinner as Odin, and you know it."

"Bullshit," Tulip said. "I swear, Jesse, whatever this thing is—it's fucking with your head, big-time."

"No, it's not." Jesse took a step towards her. "What I did today—everything I've done, is God's will."

"Right," Cassidy scoffed. "God's plan for you. His _great plan_ is for you to damn people to Hell."

"It is," Jesse said. "That's always been his plan for me. I just didn't want to admit it."

"That'd make it a whole lot easier right—God's plan, God's fault." Tulip's hands curled to fists.

"Eugene wasn't the first."

 _"What?"_ Cassidy's eyebrows shot straight up. "What the hell are you on about?"

Jesse looked away from them, staring at the windows, the stained glass casting red and black shadows on his face. "I've been damning people since I was a boy."

"Jesse..." Tulip struggled to get the words out. Her anger made the fear spreading through her easier to deal with, but just barely. He wasn't just on an ego-trip, he was out of his damn _mind_. "You know that wasn't your fault."

"I know that _now_ ," Jesse said, nodding. "It's what I was meant to do. God wants me to save this town, and I can't do that without cutting away the rotten parts."

"Thought everybody could be saved," Cassidy said, raising his chin. "Isn't that what you're always telling them?"

"Not everybody." Jesse said. "I finally get it now. The ones that refuse to be saved, it's my job to cast them down."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that," Tulip said. "I've heard enough." She spun on her heel, and headed towards the doors. "Come on Cass, let's go."

"Wait—" Jesse said.

"I'm done waitin'," Tulip snapped.

"Wait—Tulip!"

Cassidy fell in beside her.

"You walk out that door, don't come back."

Cassidy stopped where he stood, and turned to Jesse. Tulip kept walking. Later, she couldn't have said how she knew, other than she knew Jesse—knew his temper, but she brought her fingers to her ears, plugged them just as Jesse shouted, "I said — **wait!** "

She could feel that last word quivering in the air, colliding with her, locking her down, freezing her in place. It was awful. Worse than any of the other promises Jesse had broken.

Slow, painfully slow, like she was fighting against a current, she turned towards him.

Jesse didn't look the least bit guilty. "Tulip—just wait a minute, okay?"

Cassidy cleared his throat from next to her. His feet were rooted to the ground too, but for the first time since she'd come back, he looked like himself. "You know Jess, something occurred to me just now—"

"Yeah, what's that?"

"Odin wouldn't have been here at all today if you hadn't ordered him to be." Cassidy smiled, showing teeth.

Jesse's hands twitched, the way they always did when he was itching to fight. He took a step forwards, and another.

"He's got a point," Tulip said. "But that don't matter to you. Still all good right? God's will or yours. There's no difference."

 **"Quiet,"** Jesse said, and Tulip's mouth snapped shut. Her anger was too great to put into words—stupid, humiliating tears stinging at her eyes. It was the worst betrayal. Worse still than what Carlos had done to them, worse because it was Jesse. Because she'd trusted him. She'd loved him. Tulip took a shuddering breath in and out, focused all that hate, all her sorrow, all her impotent rage on him.

And then...something _heard_ her.

Jesse's face paled and he doubled over, staggering back a step as he clutched at his middle. "No—" he fell to his knees, grimacing as a shimmering light came streaming out of him. Tulip could hear it, could feel its confusion—anger—fear—desperation as it rushed forwards, wailing like an infant. It slammed into her—the force of it knocked her through the air, against the doors, _through_ the doors; she landed with a _thump_ on the ground outside, blinking up into the midday sun.

Cassidy ran out after her, right into the brightness, shouting, "Tulip!" The top of his head and his bare hands started smoking.

"I'm fine," She pushed herself to her feet. "Get in the shade before you burn."

Cassidy ran back up the steps and under the awning.

"Tulip!" Jesse stormed out of the doors, hands balled into fists. "Give it back."

"What?"

"Genesis."

"What's Genesis?" she asked, and that new energy inside her pulsed, giving her the answer. She shook her head at Jesse. "No."

"Give it back, right now," Jesse growled.

"Can you make it to the car?" she asked Cassidy. "I'll give you a ride. Wherever you want."

Cassidy swallowed, looked at Jesse and then back at Tulip. She could see him struggling.

"You can leave," she said.

"Go on." Cassidy hung his head. "I'll be fine."

Jesse came down the steps. "Tulip, you don't know how to use it, what it needs. I do." He was sweating, with the pallor of a drunk getting the shakes.

"I'll learn. And anyway." She cocked her head to the side, listening closely. "Genesis doesn't want you anymore." She spun on her heel and started walking away. "And neither do I."

"Tulip, stop!"

She could hear Jesse's footsteps behind her. And she knew how ugly this could get, would get. If she let it. "No. **You stop."**

She kept walking. "Offer's still open, Cassidy." The car handle was blistering hot, but that didn't keep her from smiling as she opened the door and climbed in.

Seconds later, the passenger side door opened. Cassidy had his head and arms pulled inside his jacket. He patted out a small patch of fire on his cheek. "So, where we headed, love?"

"Don't know yet." Tulip revved the engine, kicking up dust as they sped out onto the road. "Let's find out."

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog link on tumblr](http://monicawoe.tumblr.com/post/150099131898/reverence-monicawoe-preacher-tv-archive-of)


End file.
